


Guns and Arrows

by SquidbillyBritt



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, F/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 08:05:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11893512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquidbillyBritt/pseuds/SquidbillyBritt
Summary: When Felicity discovers something bad with a rotten 'B' brewing under her nose she decides it's time to play the field. She never imagined a life of double crossing and working with the criminals, but she'll do just that to defeat a bigger threat to the city.





	Guns and Arrows

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little kickoff to get me back into the groove of writing, it's unedited except for what I caught so all mistakes are my own. Hopefully its not enough to ruin the experience but I'm sure it's there!

 

* * *

 

Some things never changed in Felicity’s life. This mornings typical blunder—full of the standard mortification and more than one personal item broken—left her cursing the making of the beginning of what was shaping up to be a horribly bad day. Now, however, it seemed that the snapping of her unnecessarily high heel might be the only saving grace that could potentially get her out of the too brightly lit halls unheard and without a twisted ankle.

Said heels were tucked into the messenger bag slung hastily over her shoulder, long since replaced with a spare set of flats she secretly slipped into on long days. The heels were normally adorn with a tight pencil skirt and silk blouse which screamed ‘ _mistress secretary_ ’, the uniform not one she was comfortable with by any means, but begrudgingly recognized the persona for what is was. 

The look was her disguise, unoriginal and lacking much finesse, and Felicity was disgusted with both male and female counterparts alike in her department who fell so easily for the cheep ruse and fake Vegas charm. They couldn't seem to look past the the looping curls of her blonde hair, cheep pink smile, naturally soft hips and toned calfs accented by the stereotypical bedroom stilettos to be aware of anything she ever actually said…or did. 

But that _was_ the whole point to this. 

After all, no one here knew she was Felicity Smoak, certified genius, hacker extraordinaire, the infamous Overwatch, and current employee of one super top secret government sect many would be called conspirators for believing in. 

That’s how Argus worked, ruthlessly and without an ounce of shame for the means to whatever end they saw necessary.  

Honestly, it wasn't that Felicity was just now learning of the deep philosophical differences she shared with her employer. This _was,_ however, the first time she had the dirty proof of their differences, complete with an Argus fingerprint big enough to be a hand. One which could hopefully slap some type of action into the justice system. Maybe even enough to shift the rising tide, because it was sure to drown them all. 

Now all she had to do was make sure it ended up in the right hands. A task that was easier said than done. 

The information she’d found not only implicated Argus in a dark plan to ‘ _rejuvenate_ ’ the Glades, but left a strangled choke hold around her neck; the sinister reminder to the ever tightening fingers of the organization around her throat. Felicity wasn't foolish enough to miss the trap she was falling into. One likely designed for her never to be liberated from. 

There were never missteps in plans, and Felicity saw it for what it was. She was, and had always been, a misstep and loose end to Argus. That reality had never escaped her.   

Argus had _recruited_ her _—_ for lack of a better word—after a small stint in jail that was still a big enough blip for them to seek her help out. Though seek, and help, seemed too nice a word for what they offered Felicity, which at the end of the day was nothing more than a thinly veiled threat laced with the standard blackmail. The shinny new badge was complementary though, and it got her into places she never knew existed.

“Ms. Kuttler!” An accented voice called from behind her, the sudden noise in the otherwise quiet hall causing every nerve and muscle in Felicity’s body to tense, her hands clasping nervously around the leather strap of her bag until she took a deep breath, reminding herself where she was. 

Felicity made sure her turn towards the man looked nonchalant, a charming smile plastered on her face, “Mr. Steele.” She hoped he didn’t know her well enough to hear the slight tremble to the words, banking on the few exchanges they had passed previously. 

Field work always sat like something rotten in her stomach, the bold lying and sleuthing deception not something she had ever been comfortable with, and honestly Felicity was surprised Argus had trusted her as much as they had to do so. 

It would be their last mistake. 

Or it would be hers. 

The next series of events would dictate such.

Felicity was feeling more than a little nervous the table was tipping in Argus’ favor as Walter Steele, CEO of Queen Consolidated, sauntered determinedly towards her, his eyes sliding over her shoulder and beyond, clearing the hallway of anyone else who might be present. She knew no one was there because she’d been doing the same thing in her hasty retreat, trying to find the comfortable pace between walking and running to get the hell out of the building.

The longer she was in here the more she felt like a sitting duck during open season. 

“Ms. Kuttler, you're here late,” Walter casually mentioned as he closed the distance between them, an odd look of contemplation on his face. 

Felicity could feel her nerves chocking her. If Walter Steele already knew she had breached every security protocol and beyond—hacking not only his, but his wife’s computer to steal every encrypted file and then some… well, then she was totally screwed. 

Felicity fought the verbal diarrhea urging her to spill her guts, miraculously managing to bite her tongue and wait the exchange out. A hardworking cocktail waitress in Vegas had taught her to never tip her hand too early, and while during her childhood Felicity had never thanked her mother for much, this was certainly one she was thanking her for now. 

Though, even in Vegas she could never handle the adrenaline rush when she was counting cards. 

Counting cards inevitably led to a dark end when you were caught, the same dark end Felicity knew would meet her if she failed this task like she was starting to suspect. 

“Please Mr. Steele, it’s Meghan.” Felicity pleasantly replied, the perfectly practiced ‘bimbo blonde’ smile never slipping from her lips. Another practiced talent from her mother Felicity was utilizing in full force, her last line of defense, one which she was heavily banking on. The newest lip stain didn't promise weaseling out of sticky situations either, just the standard twelve hour wear.

She was so screwed. 

Even as Walter Steele again checked over his own shoulder Felicity refused to give into the twitching of her fingers, the instinct to remove herself from this situation—and _now—_ becoming a low roar in her stomach. Nothing good was going to come from this interaction. 

“Meghan,” he started, the english lit less threatening than what it was worth, “you’re here awfully late.” His tone was casual, but Felicity knew better still. 

“Oh you know, just some standard firewalls, coding and cleaning to finish.” She rushed out, gesturing around widely.

Walter hummed noncommittally to himself, his eyes freezing her in place. 

“Ms. Kuttler, can I be frank?” Though he was asking, it felt more like a statement. 

Felicity could only nod, clasping her hands in front of her and reminding herself to smile while calculating the exact distance to the closest exit. 

With the limited skills Argus had taught her she could probably make it to the emergency exit. 

Out of the building was a whole other story. 

“Of course Mr. Steele.”

His hand was suddenly reaching into his suit pocket, and before Felicity could do more than take a half step back he was handing her something, the tiny memo book dwarfed in his larger hand. 

“You are a smart woman,” he began, leading her to believe the disguise hadn't fooled him as well as the others, “and this is a delicate subject. I found this in my home, and while I know who this belongs to, I would like you to find out anything about it that you can.”

The stunning request had Felicity gapping up at the man, her hand reaching forward slowly to take the book from him. 

“Discreetly.” Walter warned before releasing the book into her grasp. 

Immediately a familiar symbol leapt from the tight leather with it a cold feeling of dread locking her hand in place.

The confession alone left only a handful of owners as a possibility. His wife, Moria Queen or two step-children, Thea and Oliver Queen. 

Felicity seriously doubted the youngest of the Queen household could pull something as delicately intricate off, her age alone eliminating her from the equation, and the possibility of the recently revived Oliver Queen being the owner was also unlikely. Felicity knew better than to take much at face value, but the bumbling exchange from their singular encounter made it hard for her to believe Oliver Queen could be so capable of doing something of this magnitude—let alone mingle with the likes of Argus. 

Just the thought of Oliver Queen had the heat rising in her body. That single encounter still haunted her, embarrassment mixed with something more had her sliding out of elevators and rooms he occupied in a frenzied hurry, all the while being too aware of the eyes piercing the back of her head in her mad retreat.  

No, this mission had been underway long since before the famous Queen’s Gambit ship wreck and Oliver Queen had been nothing more than a partying billionaire at that time. 

That left only one Queen, the most likely suspect and subsequently the Queen of all Queen’s, one Felicity didn't feel like going up against. 

Felicity knew she was just a pawn in this ever deepening game. 

This was not how she was expecting this conversation to go. 

“Mr. Steele,” Felicity began slowly, stopping as he held the same hand up to silence her. 

“Only talk to me about this in the future. Keep this to yourself, and Ms. Kuttler, it’s imperative that you tell no one of this.” The conviction was hardened in Walter Steele’s voice, with it a new layer to a complex mystery revealing its hand slowly to her. 

Great, so now coupled with the itching need to solve this mystery and the fermenting feeling firmly lodged in her stomach Felicity knew she would need a stiff drink, or two, once she finally made it home. 

Correction, _if_ she made it home. 

Still, the nagging question of _why_ couldn't let her blindly accept the book, her track record of being a human pawn teaching her a thing or two. 

“But…why?” She finally asked after a quiet second, the book still settled in her frozen outstretched hand. 

Walter looked away from her, a pensive set on his features. “I have no reason to trust you.”

‘ _And he shouldn’t._ ’ The tiny voice of self loathing chimed in her conscience. 

“But given my own observations and latest introspects to the people around me I feel like you are someone who will keep this discreet.” The pointed stare he held her under was immobilizing. “I feel I must caution you to be careful. The last person I asked to look into a smaller situation was murdered. You seem to be able to take care of yourself though.”

The blunt statement had Felicity gulping with a smile that felt too fake on her face, finally nodding softly and tucking the book into the messenger bag slung over her shoulder. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” She promised the older man, surprised how sincere the words fell from her lips. 

Felicity meant every word of it too. 

Walter smiled and held his hand out to her, shaking it firmly and nodding towards the lit exit. 

“I look forward to hearing from you again Meghan.” He parted, the foreign name reminding Felicity of how poorly she was already deceiving the man. She felt herself only able to smile and nod through her deception. 

Felicity might not be the person Mr. Steele thought he knew, but she swore to be herself for his request. 

This was also entirely based on the assumption that she would live through the night. 

As Walter’s tall body retreated back towards the way he’d come from Felicity felt the fire light under her feet, her flats all but sliding across the slick floor as she rushed towards the elevator. 

The evidence against Argus sat like a lead weight in her concealed skirt pocket, the conundrum of how to present it to the DA running through her head faster than the elevators sluggish descent. The big question of _how_ she was even going to get this past Argus was still unanswered, and Felicity couldn't even think of where to begin while she was still trying to make her hasty escape. 

The digging—‘ _Finally!’—_ of the elevator doors had her moving, the darkened lobby holding only one security guard who was too busy on his phone do more than wave as she rushed past him. 

‘ _Too easy, that was too easy. The whole thing was too easy._ ’ Was all Felicity could think as she hustled towards the parking lot where her small mini cooper would still be waiting.

You would think this was her first mission with Argus, which wasn't the case. This was just the first time she’d finally seen the opportunity to do something about it, blackmail be damned. There wasn't anything Argus could hold over her head worth what she’d found. 

If Felicity had been any less of a hacker then she never would have found the deeply hidden file, encrypted and coded to the walls and back, trying to blend into an innocent file. 

Argus must have known the evidence existed still took a calculated gamble on her inability to find the file, or her loyalty, both of which would cost them once Felicity could work out the finer details. 

She was _Overwatch_ for googles sake! It was almost insulting they thought she wouldn't find it. 

“Well well, what do we have here?” A new voice asked from behind her, and Felicity wanted to scream at her luck. 

Apparently if it wasn't Argus or the CEO of Queen Consolidated it was a drunkard looking for quick pickings. This city really was going to hell in a hand basket. Not even the masked crusader in green could keep up with the never ending crime Starling had been plagued with.  

Felicity could feel the edges of her fraying rope snapping, it had been a long day and she was sick of these ridiculous interruptions that were only slowing her down, making her feel more exposed every second longer the incriminating usb was tucked in her skirt and not in the hands of the police.

Felicity swung around quickly, facing the drunken man, “I don't know who you think—,” the words fell from her lips as she came to face not one, but three burley men. 

None of them looked like they were simply lost and looking for directions. The twitchy on the far right left little to the imagination of how they thought this was about to go. 

Great, this was an organized mugging.

Felicity _really_ hated organized criminals. 

In full confidence she could take out at least one, but that variable was still one that left much to be desired. The odds were slipping out of her favor, and it didn't take a genius to figure that out. 

The dark smile lining the speakers lips promised nothing good, his shoulders sliding forward as he took a menacing step towards her, his hands tucked firmly in his pockets. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here so late?” The question could be innocent enough under normal circumstances.

Felicity sent a silent thanks to the universe that her heel had broken, shifting her feet subtable and letting her right hand fall to the hem of her skirt, trying to remain calm and remember what little training she had under her belt.

Argus hadn't taught her much, but now she was banking on what they had taught her, even praying it could possibly getting her away from here.  

The man barked in laughter at her brave face and solid stance, his friends joining him a second later. 

“Oh what’s this? Cat caught your tongue? With lips that pretty you should smile.” He taunted, taking another menacing step in her direction. 

Felicity held her ground, steeling her bodying nerves for the impending fight. 

“You should sober up and come back in the morning, I’m sure someone can help you with whatever you need.” Felicity attempted to reason, knowing she was only stalling whatever these men had in mind. 

Scruffy leader boy simply smirked and gestured towards her, looking at his friends in mockery. “She wants us to come back in the morning boys.” The two thugs didn't acknowledge the speaker, their sights set firmly on her. 

The laugher died from the talking one’s voice and his stare hardened with a precision that made Felicity suspect he might be less drunk than originally assumed. 

“No, I don't think we will be coming back tomorrow. You see Ms. Smoak, you have something that our employer wants.” 

The familiar surname on his lips had every muscle locking in Felicity’s body. 

They knew her name. Her _real_ name. 

The sudden implications of what that meant was too much to evaluate, the looming dread from the moment she’d stollen those files coming to fruition before her suddenly. 

Okay, so the element of inebriation was no longer on her side either. 

“What employer?” Felicity asked, taking a small step back and trying to map out an escape, “Who hired you?”

The man shrugged and looked around the quiet parking lot, the distant sounds of police sirens and city life lulling in the background like an ominous track record to her demise. 

“It’s nothing to concern yourself with Ms. Smoak, and if you give us the files you found we might actually let you live.” The lie fell like condescending sugar on her ears, and Felicity knew if she didn’t act now there wouldn't be a later. 

Before she could think twice about her actions Felicity spun on her heel, clasping the messenger bag to her chest and taking off as fast as her legs would take her. 

The barking yell and sudden pop of a gun shot had her quickly ducking around a corner, her breath coming in panting gasps. 

Great, they had fire arms too!

Felicity ignored the yelling behind her and pushed her body for all it was worth, weaving deeper into the night of the city while trying to find a way into a populated area. It was late in the business district though, so the likelihood of anyone coming to her rescue was slim. 

Another bang from the gun somewhere behind her had Felicity choking on a gasping scream, diving desperately behind the closest dumpster. She clutched the messenger bad tightly to her heaving chest, straining her ears to listen to the foot falls behind her.

“Smoaky!” The original man yelled, his voice echoing across the cold buildings, feet tapping along the pitted cement as he walked closer to her hiding spot. “You can't hide forever!”

Felicity knew she couldn't stay behind the shabby excuse for cover long. Soon enough they would stumble right onto her. A quick peak from her pinned position had the anxiety building, the rush of adrenaline making her jaw clench uncomfortably. 

There was no way out. 

She was pinned behind a dumpster and blockaded alley. In her mad scramble to get away and out into an open area she’d managed to trap herself. 

It was classic, really, broken heels in the morning and broken necks at night. 

Well, she wasn't going to go down without a fight. 

Felicity looked around the area, seeing nothing within reach that could be easily used as a weapon and pulled the bag from her chest. Wrapping the straps around her forearm she gave an experimental tug to ensure the security and slid to the edge of the dumpster, listing to the creeping foot steps slowly coming closer. 

With each step approaching further Felicity drew in a small baiting breath, waiting till she was sure contact could be made. When they finally fell right behind her Felicity sprung into action, jumping up wildly and swinging her bag as hard as she could. 

The action was met with a rewarding grunt, the hidden heels and weighted books making contact with one ugly mug and stunning the man back a couple steps. Felicity didn't wait a moment for him to compose himself, her free hand fisting into a tight ball and swinging to a mans most vulnerable bits with all her might. 

He fell to the floor like a dead weight, almost comically, though there was no time to laugh as she charged the stunned man a half step behind his boss, raising her bag to smack the look off his face.

Unfortunately for her, thug number two seemed a little more suave at fighting. His hand came out quicker than her throw, catching the bag twisted around her arm and yanking forcefully. 

Felicity gasped as she felt her feet slipping out from underneath her a short moment before her arm was yanked painfully into a twisted motion, the sturdy leather straps tightening around her chest in the same moment a calloused hand wrapped around her throat, pinning her against a body behind her. 

Only a choking gasp could leave her mouth, her vision spotting and facing the third man standing casually in front of her.

“This little bitch better be worth it,” the voice behind her growled over her shoulder, “I’m sick of doing Bratton’s work. I don't work for him.” 

A shrug from the third. 

Felicity could feel a hot breath slithering down her cheek. “Too bad we don't have enough time to play with this tight piece of a—“ 

Whatever was about to be said morphed into a choked scream at the same time the pressure around Felicity’s chest and throat released, the sudden movement sending her crashing into the ground next to another falling body. 

The contents of her bag crashed to the floor, sliding across the alley in every direction. Her eyes swung up just as the third man crashed to the ground with a guttural yell, eyes landing on a shadowed figure that stories had been whispered about in office spaces and condemned on tv. 

The masked man, the hood, the vigilante. 

A quick look to the two quiet bodies on the floor told proof of a fair assessment, the narrow shaft of an arrow protruding from their forms. Felicity couldn't find it in her to feel sorry for them, they had it coming.

The lean body clad in green leather stood as still as a statue, the weighted silence cut only by the gasping breaths escaping her lungs in the too quiet alley.

It seemed the hood wasn't too keen to stick around either. He reached a hand back, notching and arrow and sending it flying quicker than Felicity could blink. She was surprised to see a cable suddenly appear and realized he was about to make his own escape. 

She scrambled to a standing position, holding a hand out and yelling quickly, “Wait please!” 

He made no sound, only the small motion of his body halting conceding to her plea. 

In a world which Felicity could feel herself drowning in she made a desperate move, praying that she wouldn't come to regret it.

“You fight for the good guys,” she rushed on, “I’ve seen what you do on the news and read the blogs.” She’d also heard a small bit in the halls of Argus, “I know you're trying to clean this city’s streets and you don't have a reason to trust me, but I need to make sure important information gets into the right hands. Can I trust you?” It was almost comical how similar her conversation with the hood now was to the one with Walter Steele, but the desperation of her situation lended a new avenue to a potential escape.

The walls of possibilities were closing in. With Argus at her back and the unknowing revelation from the cronies at her feet it was all she could do to try and break the cycle of corruption swallowing this city. 

The masked crusader didn't answer her, but he didn't leave either. Felicity took it as a sign to continue and stumbled towards him, stepping carefully around the prone men and reaching into the concealed pocket of her skirt. She held the drive out to the vigilante, finally close enough to see the hard jaw line and thick stubble of a beard. 

“Please, I work for a group of bad people and this will take care of them, but apparently Lyle Bratton is also sleeping with the enemy and I can’t let this get into his hands.” Felicity explained quickly, seeing the tilt of his head at the familiar name. 

Yeah, she’d been just as shocked to discover that their one and only mayor was also part of this mess. 

Instead of answering her the masked man stepped towards her and bent down, picking up one of the scattered contents of her bag, holding it out in front of her. 

“What do you know of this?” He asked with a voice warped in an unnatural, almost animatronic, way, the small book Walter Steele had tasked her with in his firm grasp. 

Felicity shook her head, reaching out and taking the book from him quickly. “I don't know anything yet, but this is unrelated,” she thrust the usb at the man again, “to this.” 

There was a contemplative silence from the hood, though it looked more like brooding to Felicity. 

“I’m beginning to doubt that.” He grunted, evading her questioning look and taking the usb from her fingers, his gloved hand dwarfing hers. 

Felicity refused to note how much larger his hand was to hers, or how the gravel of his true voice slipped through his modulator from this distance, inviting her to scoot closer. This was not the time or place. A man running around the streets at night in green leather playing Robin Hood wasn't something she should even be getting caught up in, delusion or not. 

There were bigger things to be worried about. 

Becoming a double agent to a vigilante being one of those things. 

Though, was it really becoming a double agent if you were already a blackmailed agent on an undercover mission to ‘save’ the city? 

Felicity could sort through the semantics later. 

“One condition.” The voice pulled Felicity from her musing. She looked up, shocked to see the bluest of eyes staring back at her from beneath the concealing mask and perfectly parting shadows.

The zap of electricity she felt had her gulping with a small nod, her eyes locking with his in a way that made the world fade around her. 

“Tell me what you learn about that,” he motioned to the book, waiting only a half beat before she nodded in agreement. 

“You little bitch!” 

The sudden shout into the otherwise quiet alley had the green man diving for her, a loud gunshot followed by another happening in such a flurry of movement it was hard to comprehend what had happened until the sound of a body dropping had awareness processing. 

The original man laid immobile on the floor, a gun hanging from his hand. The hood was staring—surprised if she was reading correctly—at the smoking gun still in her hand. 

Felicity flicked her eyes away from the unconscious man to the hood, who was still poised to pull her from the gun fire. 

“Rubber bullets,” she told him, sliding the gun into the hidden thigh strap under her skirt. “He’s not dead but the shots had to have alerted someone.” 

An idea started to bloom quickly in Felicity’s mind. “Take him, it’ll help me gain more information, I can play it off like a common mugging.” 

The hood looked at the prone man then back at her, the scrutiny obvious. 

“Please,” she begged, “there’s something going on with this city and I need to find out who’s behind it.” 

“Who are you?” The question wasn’t one Felicity was expecting, the sudden trajectory throwing her off for a second before she could re-focus. 

She thought about giving him her agent name. He’d never be able to find her with any sophisticated system if she did, but something urged her to tell the truth. To believe in the man of mysteries and voice of sin. 

“Felicity,” she admitted, proud of her voice for being steady, “Felicity Smoak.”

The vigilante took a step forward, bringing his much large body into her orbit with the action. Her pulse spiked, her heart beating into her throat as a gloved finger slowly reached out, brushing a falling lock from her face and stopping on what was going to be a nasty bruise on her throat. 

She bit her lip, preventing herself from saying anything stupid to ruin the moment.

“Why do you trust me?” He asked, the shocking bass from his voice being so close sending goosebumps scattering along her skin. 

“It’s easier somehow to trust a man in a mask doing honest work.” Felicity didn't know how else to explain it, and hoped he would take her for her word. It was all she had left, especially now that she was leaving her fate in his hands. 

The incoming sound of sirens pulled his fingers from her skin, and Felicity would dream that was hesitation she felt. 

“Until I see you again then,” he told her, the air between them feeling charged.

“How will you find me?” She couldn't help but ask, the logic in her brain never turned off, only dulled. In this case, considerably.

Felicity swore she saw a smirk tilt on the corners of his lips. 

“I’ll know where to find you,” he promised, the worlds a dark promise, “Felicity.”

He parted just as quickly as he arrived, leaving her with only two unconscious men in the alley and the lights of red and blue creeping up the darkened walls. 

Felicity really hoped she didn't just make the biggest mistake of her life. 

Why was she even having a moment with the vigilante?! 

It was the _last_ thing she needed in her already complicated life.

A nagging feeling settled into her stomach again, a thought finally coming to the forefront of her mind with the sudden depletion of adrenaline.

‘ _I know I’ve seen those eyes before._ ’

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this short little thing I had rattling around in my head!


End file.
